Auror Mystery: Transylvanian Terror
by McNerdybird
Summary: Episode #1: Harry and Ginny go for a lovely, uneventful holiday in sunny Translyvania, where absolutely nothing goes wrong. Especially no murder mystery in an old castle purportedly haunted by a bloodthirsty vampire. Of course not.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Thanks for checking out my story! This is the first in a series of stories that I have named Auror Mysteries. They will be short, few-chaptered stories. I was going to post this one all at once on Halloween but unfortunately I wasn't able to finish the other chapters. However, I wanted to post something today. I hope you enjoy it and watch out for the other parts of it.

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Auror Mystery: Transylvanian Terror

CHAPTER ONE

 **Romania, 1999**

Lightning flashed sharply, illuminating the decrepit castle against the stormy night sky of pitch black, the squat towers appearing like craggy, crumbling cliffs. It was a wonder the castle did not collapse under the pressure of the torrential rain that was pelting down from the sky. Unfortunately, the rain did not wash off the looks of abject horror and disgust that was pasted on the faces of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Hand in hand they stood, staring at what was supposed to be a five star establishment; and was quite obviously...not.

Ginny turned to her boyfriend, pulling a hood over her soaking red hair. " _This_ is the place you choose for our first holiday away together alone?" She muttered, the rain almost making her impossible to hear. Still in shock from their post-Portkey revelation, Harry could not tear his eyes away from their soon to be residence.

"Maybe I should have done more research before I agreed to buy the holiday on the sun-kissed beaches of Transylvania." Examining a wet pamphlet with a bright sun depicted on the front , he rubbed the back of his sopping wet raven hair shamefully. "Well, no use standing out here, we'll only be worse off," Harry advised, changing tack, starting to lead Ginny by the hand along the path to the castle's large, foreboding doors.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Ginny replied doubtfully, but she allowed herself to be dragged along anyway. The soggy pair crossed the rotting drawbridge and knocked on the heavy doors. Just as they opened, lightning flashed again followed by the angry grumble of thunder. Then the opposite end of the drawbridge began to crack under the strain of the wind and rain, and the planks splintered spectacularly. The couple watched with wide eyes as the bridge disappeared before them, and threw themselves on the stony floor of the inside just in time.

Harry hugged Ginny in relief, as their chests heaved with the exertion. Still on the cold floor, Ginny rubbed her freckled nose affectionately against Harry's. "I always like to make an entrance," she trilled, grinning brilliantly at him. Once again, Harry was smitten by the beautiful redhead, her cheeks pink from their leap, and was just about to show her how smitten he was when he remembered where they were. Instead, he helped her to her feet and they left their own stream behind them as they waddled over to the receptionist's desk, clothes uncomfortably wet. Ginny whispered to Harry what they could do with their clothes and he blushed.

On their way over, they saw a bedraggled man attempting to mop up the sea that Harry and Ginny had just brought in. "Sorry," Harry apologised, grimacing at the mess. "You might want to know that your bridge is broken."

The man threw the mop to the floor in frustration. "Not again! Ah well, we can't put another up in this awful storm. It'll have to wait." As Harry turned to go, the man caught his arm. "Say, you're not related to Nicholas the Ugly are you? Only we have a portrait of him on the top floor-"

"No, I am definitely not," Harry retorted shortly, turning away to the receptionist's desk, Ginny struggling to stifle giggles.

"Excuse me," Harry said, after clearing his throat. The blonde receptionist looked up from the important job of filing her nails. "We made reservations under the name Potter, I think." The receptionist appraised them with what Harry viewed as a slightly flirty eyebrow. His girlfriend obviously thought a similar thing.

"I hope you're not checking him out," Ginny hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Okay, she occasionally had trouble with the many women who checked out her boyfriend but she can't be blamed for that, _surely_.

"Actually, I'm checking him in," retorted the receptionist coolly, chewing on some gum. "Besides," she continued, as she handed Harry a set of keys. "He's not really my type." As if to prove her point, she allowed her gaze to linger over Ginny's frame.

"Oh," was all Ginny managed to say, blushing again, this time from embarrassment. Now it was Harry's turn to narrow his eyes.

"Come along, wife," Harry moaned, pushing Ginny softly in the direction of the lifts. Could he help it if jealousy was also _his_ weak point? He had to have some flaw.

"Oh, by the way," the receptionist called after them. "Your room was swapped with an elderly gentleman, who requested a ground floor room!"

"Wife?" Ginny questioned, folding her arms, trying not to laugh as Harry assured the receptionist with a wave of his arm that he understood.

"Yes, it's...a colloquial term for hot girlfriend," Harry spluttered, as they made their way up to their room. "I-In Surrey..."

Ginny smirked as they entered their rather gothic and old fashioned room. "Oh really? Because where I'm from it means jealous boyfriend trying to ward off competitor."

"Well, that's regional dialects for you..."

"Yeah, yeah." They dropped their cases and had a quick rest before heading down for some stomach-warming dinner.

The dining hall, though just as bleakly decorated, was easily the comfiest part of the castle, as the kitchen's furnaces warmed the stone and the glow reflected off the walls, creating a bubbly, cosy atmosphere that made Ginny feel quite drowsy. The gentle murmuring of the other guests and distant echoes of rhythmic rainfall, didn't help relieve her of her drowsiness. As they sampled some of the local cuisine, Harry lit the candle in between them, which danced flirtatiously between them.

Harry watched her enticing, pink lips as they closed over the fork, providing the food access into her mouth. Ginny smirked at him and Harry felt her foot gently rubbing up against his leg. "This is nice, isn't it," she began, the flame reflecting in her eyes. "Just me and you, alone with a room. No family members to walk in on us..."

"Ah yes. I remember the last time one of your brothers walked in on us playing board games," Harry replied, smiling fondly.

"Board games, dear? I was under the impression we'd be using our room for more...exciting games," Ginny retorted, running a tongue along her lips seductively.

Harry continued to act oblivious, drawing Ginny out. "Oh? What sort of games?" Ginny raised her fiery eyebrows suggestively and opened her mouth to reply when her voice was smothered by a loud shouting at the door. Harry swivelled in his chair to see a woman covered in robes, with long, curly brown hair and a very large, bent nose. She was speaking in some sort of foreign language that was unfamiliar to him. She had a distinct air of dottiness that Harry linked with Professor Trelawney. The woman continued to rant and point randomly around the room, as a tall, dark-haired man hustled her out of the room.

"What was that about?" Ginny wondered, slightly annoyed that their conversation was so rudely interrupted.

"I have absolutely no idea," Harry said, returning his eyes to the beautiful redhead. "And I have no idea what she was saying. Now, where were-"

"I can help you with that," said a male voice beside them, as Harry sagged at the second interruption. A brown haired man stood next to their table, smiling politely. With his quite muscular shoulders, Harry supposed you could call him ruggedly handsome. "My name's Marcus Baxter, and yes, I'm from England, and yes, I know who you are-"

"Oh god..." Harry moaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to fanboy over you or something. But I've been here a while and picked a few things up. I could, for instance, tell you what that lovely lady who just came in said."

Harry frowned slightly at the man, suspicious about his friendliness. "Alright," he said uneasily. "What did she say?"

Baxter sat down at the third chair at the table, and turned himself slightly towards Ginny. Harry felt annoyance twinge in his head. "Well, Matilda claims to be a Seer and she bursts in here every now and again proclaiming doom among everyone, saying people will die in their rooms. She's crazy really."

"Where've we heard that before," Ginny giggled, sharing a look with Harry.

"Trelawney was right in the end," Harry pointed out.

"Old Matilda quickly gets pushed out of the room if she causes a disturbance, so don't you worry. That man who pushed her out just now, that was the manager, Virgil Serban." Baxter leaned forwards, his brow furrowing. "He and his wife, Octavia...are vampires..."

"Really? That's awesome!" Ginny cried, as Baxter nodded towards a thin, pretty woman with straight night-black hair and fringe. Octavia. She seemed a fair bit younger than her husband but who was Harry to question vampire marriages.

"Some even say that this castle is where the real Dracula is buried and, even worse, that he still leaves his coffin each night to feast on the hotel's inhabitants. It's all rubbish though obviously," he smirked.

"So, what about you Mr Baxter? Who are you?" Ginny interjected.

Baxter leaned back comfortably and waved his arm dismissively. "Me? I just work in the Ministry but I've always wanted to be a Curse Breaker, travelling the world. Never had the skill but I won the lottery and here I am."

Ginny leaned over. "You know my brother was a Curse Breaker until he got a job working for Goblin Liaison . He hopes to return to it one day."

"Really? That's-"

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, isn't it time we headed back to our room Ginny?" Harry asked, already halfway out of his seat. Ginny soon joined him.

"Just watch out for old Gerry," Baxter warned after them, as they left the dining hall. "Another crazy...looking for some sort of treasure..."

As Harry and Ginny rushed up to their room, they almost bumped into an old man, with a bristly grey moustache and an old holey hat.

"Sorry..."

"Watch where yer going," he grumbled, pulling his hat lower on his head. "Bloody youth of today, thinking they own the castle..." The man hobbled off down the corridor, grumbling under his breath about treasure and how he'll pay to have teenagers locked away.

"Lovely man," Ginny commented sarcastically.

"Yeah, reminds me of Filch. Wanna bet that was our treasure-seeking Gerry?"

A short while later, Harry and Ginny could be found to be entwined on their bed, kissing passionately and allowing hands to roam. "You see," mumbled Harry between sweet kisses. "Once we got in this place isn't so bad is it?" Lightning flashed from the gaps in the old, moth-eaten curtain and rain continued to batter the thin windows.

"Except from the exceptionally high number of crazy people, you mean?" Ginny pecked his lips and moved to straddle his waist. Harry groaned wantonly.

"Just adds to the charm of the old place doesn't it," Harry replied, watching Ginny pull her top over her head. He reached out his hands to rub the smooth skin of her sides.

"Put it this way Potter, if it wasn't for the fact that I was feeling extremely horny you wouldn't be getting any- oof!" Halfway through her comment Harry had forcefully grabbed her dainty wrists and rolled over, so that he was now on top. "You cheeky-"

Once again, Harry cut her off, but this time it was through a kiss. He felt Ginny's small hands tug at the hem of his shirt, and so he momentarily broke off the kiss to take it off. That done, he collapsed back down on top off Ginny, engaging her in a thorough snog, tongues included. Her hands clawed his back softly as she arched up towards him, and he felt the satiny skin of her stomach rub against his. His kisses moved slower, trailing down her slender neck, then leaving marks on her shoulder, before making their way between her breasts and down to her navel. Harry stopped just before the top of her trousers, and gently slid them down her long legs. Heart beating quickly, Harry then turned to her pink knickers, bending over them and sliding a finger into the hem -

As quick as a flash, with years of being followed by peril having conditioned him, Harry whipped his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He was sure he had heard a subtle creak at the door, as if someone had opened it a crack before fleeing. He squinted his eyes at it, suspiciously, but it did not appear to have moved. He was certain though...

"Harry, what's wrong?" questioned Ginny, more lightning illuminating her face, painted with concern. She herself had heard nothing, having been focusing on the scintillating touch of her boyfriend. He must have misheard; what was there to worry about anyway? He was being paranoid.

Harry smiled at Ginny. "Nothing, I thought I heard something. Now, where were we?" The redhead gave him a devilish grin as Harry continued where he had left off.

As Harry and Ginny snuggled together under their sheets, bathing in each other's afterglow, a sound reverberated throughout the castle that sent a chill coursing through their naked spines. A horrible scream stabbed through the roaring thunder and rain, followed by the terrible words: "he's dead!"


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as the harrowed cry stopped echoing around the dank castle walls, Harry and Ginny leapt out of bed and threw on their clothes, the castle stirring around them. The pair flew past curious heads sticking out of doors, down the stairs and towards a tell-tale crowd gathering outside a room. As Harry tried to worm his way to the crime scene, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back. "I'm sorry sir but this area is now a crime scene. I'm afraid it is off limits to guests," spoke the hotel's manager, Virgil Serban, in a gentle, serpentine manner. As the vampire spoke, Harry glimpsed pearly fangs protracting menacingly from the man's blood-red gums.

"It's alright," Harry assured the man, showing him a badge. "I'm an Auror. I thought I could help you with this situation." Serban's thick eyebrows rose in comprehension and with a sudden swooshing motion, the vampire pulled Harry inside the room. Harry just managed to grab Ginny and bring her with him, when the door was slammed shut behind them. They were now inside the room containing the dead man and, sure enough, there on the bed was a lifeless staring corpse, laying in pyjamas as if ready for bed. "Who's this?" Serban asked, eyes darting suspiciously towards Ginny.

"This is my girlfriend."

"Mr Potter, a crime scene is not suitable for a date," the vampire admonished.

"Ginny is here because she can help me, okay." Sombrely, Harry approached the body and realised it was the old man who they had bumped into last night. Gerry, the man after treasure. Had that been a factor in his death? Well, he was old, it was more than likely Gerry died of natural causes.

"I'm glad you are here," admitted Serban, his voice heavily accented, his inky brows furrowed with sorrow. "With the storm and the broken bridge, it would be all but impossible to bring in the proper authorities and I have no idea how to handle a death-"

"A murder to be specific," Harry added, as he examined the room, which was smaller and even darker than his and Ginny's. Virgil Serban became pale, even for a vampire, at this suggestion, his eyes once again bulging, this time in dawning horror that there was a murderer in his hotel.

"Are you- are you sure?" He questioned, eyes pleading for Harry to be lying or joking.

"Almost certain," came the matter-of-fact reply from one of the man's cupboards. "Call it a hunch, but there are certain clues in this room that point to a certain ambiguity in the death. For instance, Gerry...uh..."

"Simpson."

"Simpson. Gerry Simpson wore a hat, one that, judging by the holes, was quite old and therefore valuable to him."

"No one would wear a moldy old hat like that unless it was important to them," Ginny supplied, as she watched her Auror boyfriend at work.

"Exactly," Harry continued. "But it is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was dropped wherever Mr Simpson was when he was attacked. A tenuous suggestion, I know. But there is also the fact that his pyjama bottoms are on back to front, like someone hurriedly put them on him. Add to this the peculiar moss on the bottom of his shoe, makes you wonder where he was...he surely couldn't have been outside..." Harry's mind wandered off as it often did during these investigations.

Looking like a stick insect being harshly squeezed, Serban spoke again, "it really doesn't seem enough to me to be murder, but I cannot take the chance if the safety of my guests is at stake. Please Mr Potter, sort this out quickly."

"I'll do my best Mr Serban. I'll need to conduct interviews of people to find the culprit and bring them to justice."

"Of course, of course." Serban was bowing out of the room.

"Oh, and what room number is this?" Harry called, as Serban all but disappeared. "22b," came the reply, from out in the corridor.

"22b?" repeated Ginny, biting her lower lip. "Wasn't that meant to be our room?"

"Come in," barked Harry, his feet parked on the pristine, dark oak desk of Virgil Serban. Nearby, Ginny was lounging on a sofa, watching the proceedings. The first of Harry's suspects entered: Matilda the "Seer." She peered around the door nervously, her bulbous head quivering.

"What is the meaning of this?" She stuttered in her strong accent, betraying her attempts at indignance. She was one of the few people who couldn't be accounted for at the time of Gerry Simpson's death. Almost everyone had been at the midnight bingo, which was surprisingly popular. She perched herself on a seat across from Harry's desk, her head swivelling between Harry and Ginny.

"Madame Matilda, you were one of the few people who was not at the midnight bingo, I still can't believe people actually turned up for that, and so you are a suspect in the murder of Gerry Simpson." Matilda tried to splutter a response but Harry held a hand up to stop her. "Look, just tell us what you were doing at that time." Matilda seethed behind large glasses, like a rattlesnake.

"I am a Seer! I do not need to pander to one without the Sight!" She gloated, bony chin held high.

"Ok, I'll put you down as being in a mysterious location." Harry made to write in his notebook. "That won't be suspicious at all-"

"Alright," Matilda hissed, staring daggers at Harry. "I shall tell you. I was in my bed, asleep. Having the Sight is quite tiring in reality."

"Excellent," Harry replied, scribbling down some notes. "You were often proclaiming about disaster and death in the hotel. If your proclamations were true then you could stand to make quite a bit of money off it, right?"

"No, I had no money in this."

"No, but being proved correct could mean that you get more business. And there's also the show that you've been advertising."

"Well, I suppose. But I wouldn't kill a man for money! We Seers are above that!" Harry dipped his head a little and smiled gently.

"I believe you," he said.

"You do? Well, it's about time!"

"Before I let you go though, did you witness anything strange last night?" The woman thought for a moment, half out the door already.

"Apart from the manager's wife coming in and tidying up the rooms as she does every few days, I can't think of anything."

"Thank you, Matilda," Harry said as Matilda slipped through the door. "Where was her room again?" Ginny questioned.

"Uh, on the bottom floor I think-"There was movement outside the door. "Ah, I think our next suspect has arrived."

"Baxter, where were you last night?" Harry probed, his eyes narrowed.

"Like I told you, I was in my bed, trying to sleep." Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes in a very professional manner.

"Oh, and I expect having the Sight tires you out too. During the war, back in Britain, what was your position?"

"Harry!" Ginny admonished, but Harry stared at Baxter. He looked crestfallen and his broad shoulders seemed to shrink inwards.

"I...kept my head low and minded my own business to be honest."

"You didn't have anything against me...or Ginny?"

Baxter looked shocked. "No, I didn't . In fact I admired you guys. I just wished I'd done more during the war." He appeared to look into the distance. Harry was deep in thought.

"Marcus, I think you can go," Ginny said softly and the man slouched out of the room.

Interviewing the remaining suspects went relatively smoothly but Harry felt they were no closer to discovering who the killer was. Several people had motive and opportunity which meant he could not pick one over the other. They had even interviewed Serban's wife, who had claimed she only went out for ten minutes to catch up on some cleaning. "Maybe we should check Gerry's room again," suggested Ginny, as Harry paced around the room.

"Good idea," Harry replied. "Maybe we missed something."

"It's getting late now," Ginny said, glancing at the clock. "Maybe we check the room and then head to bed."

"Sounds like a plan." The couple headed down to the victim's room, as the flickering candles cast trembling shadows on the stony walls. At this time of night, the castle was deathly silent; even the rain had let up. The result was a tense and uneasy atmosphere where even the slightest noise seemed dangerous. Ginny had an eerie feeling that they were being watched, as the slight hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Finally, they reached the foreboding door of Simpson's room, and eased it open. They slipped into the darkened room and with a flick of her wand, Ginny lit the candles. The room began to glow, outlining the sheet-covered corpse of Gerry Simpson. Together, Harry and Ginny began to search for any clues they might have missed.

Harry began rifling through his drawers, leafing through paper, but it was all blank. He checked his clothes drawer, even his socks, but then stopped when he noticed something. He pulled out one sock and noticed it was filled with a flat rectangular object. He slid his hand in and pulled out an envelope.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed before Harry could read it. "I think I've found something."

"So have I," added Harry as he rushed to her side.

"Look," she said, and pressed a stone that seemed to protrude from the wall. They heard a faint sliding noise, then a door opened up in the wall. For a moment, they stared in surprise and the tight, dark walkway. They couldn't see more than a few feet down the secret passageway. "Looks safe," Ginny commented drily. "What did you find?"

"An envelope. You light the way and I'll read this while we walk."

"Scared?" teased Ginny and she light her wand and entered the passageway. As he held out his hands to balance himself in the narrow walls, Harry's hand slid against some damp moss and the gurgling of drains could be heard all around them.

He tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter. He read it out loud as they walked along. "Dear associates. I believe I have located it. I have called upon my own friend to assist me. He will arrive soon. I will message you when we have removed it. GS."

They soon reached a dead end, but after some fumbling around Ginny managed to find another stone. The door creaked open to reveal a familiar corridor. "Look, here's another one," pointed out Ginny, gesturing to a similar protruding stone.

"This must be how the murderer gets around," concluded Harry. Just then, a movement down the corridor caught the corner of his eye. He glanced around to see a dark figure, suspiciously exiting a room, glancing around. They looked eyes and Harry knew this was the murderer. They figure turned on their heels and fled down the corridor. "Ginny, check in that room!" Harry ordered as he ran off in pursuit of the figure.

Ginny wrenched open the door, both afraid of what she might see but desperate that she be quick so she could join Harry in his chase. The room was dark as again Ginny waved her wand to light the candles. As they flickered into life, they illuminated a body, an old man on the bed, facing away from Ginny. She stalked towards it, and with a shaking hand reached out to feel the pulse on his neck. She placed her hand on the point and almost expected the man to reach around and grab her but there was no response from him...or his heart. The murderer had struck again.

Harry chased the figure down, determined to bring them to justice, but the suspect was quicker than he was and seemed to know the castle well. They were losing him and there was nothing he could do. His heart pounded in his chest and his lungs worked overtime to get him more air but after he hadn't seen them in a while, he had to admit he had lost them. "Robards will have me running laps if he hears of this," Harry panted to himself, leaning against a wall and doubling over.

Quickly, Ginny caught up with him, breathing heavily and looking pale. "Old...man...dead," she gasped, bending over and shaking her head. Harry swore and punched the wall.

"Hold on..." Harry curiously peeked around a potted plant, sure he had just heard a noise emanating from there. And sure enough, someone was crouched behind it. "Baxter..."


End file.
